Flynn stood on the opposite side of the restaurant, towering over Jim Walsh, the head coach of the Hawks. At six foot four and 220 pounds, Flynn was a giant—and sexy—hunk of a man, though he seemed oblivious to his power over the ladies. He’d informed her more than once that his body was a machine. He’d been put on this earth to play football, and he was using his body to the absolute maximum to fulfill that prophecy.
When he talked to her like that, she sort of lost herself. She secretly believed he’d been put on this earth to drive her crazy with lust, what with that deep bedroom voice and those intense green eyes. The short dark brown hair she wanted to run her fingers through, his chiseled jaw, that lush mouth that made her imagine what it might be like to be kissed by him…
Focus!
She shook herself, concentrated on Flynn’s body language, which she’d become particularly skilled at interpreting since she’d started working with him. He was tense. She could see it in the firm line of his broad shoulders, the stiff way he held himself. The expression on his face was beyond serious, his mouth turned into a frown, his gaze somber. Whatever Walsh was telling him couldn’t be good.
Which meant she needed to go play interference and quick.
“I’ve got to go,” she murmured to Nick, ignoring the huge, knowing grin on his face. Jerk. She knew he would keep her crush on Flynn a secret, though. They’d grown close since they’d started working together. She trusted him and he trusted her, like the bossy big brother she’d never had.
Without thought, she wound her way through the crowds of people, all of them there to celebrate the Hawks latest play-off victory. The team was having a superior season so far. She’d been in a celebratory mood, as well, excited at the possibility of her team going all the way to the Super Bowl.
Not that anyone from the Hawks actually ever said those words. That would be a total jinx, and athletes were the most superstitious bunch she’d ever worked with. So they all gathered together and celebrated each individual success while barreling their way toward the ultimate goal.
Super Bowl Champions.
Unfortunately, her let’s-celebrate mood had deflated like a popped balloon when she’d randomly checked Facebook right before walking into the restaurant. So stupid. Why was she still friends on Facebook with Derek-the-ex anyway? She’d immediately ordered a drink at the bar. Then, when she’d overheard the conversation regarding Flynn’s possible nonexistent future with the Hawks, that had called for another drink. Maybe two.
Aubrey stopped short, teetering on the super-high-heeled boots she wore so she could be—talk about wishful thinking—within reach of Flynn’s kissable lips.
God. She was so wrapped up in her lusty thoughts, it was sort of ridiculous. She needed to focus on the here and now, not let her imagination carry her away like it tended to do lately whenever Flynn was around.
Nearly stumbling over her own feet, she stood straighter, brushing off her skirt as she lingered near where the two men stood intently talking, silently arguing with herself over what she should do. Should she interrupt their conversation or wait for them to finish? It was sort of rude and presumptive, barging in on what was clearly a private moment.
Deciding to channel her inner Harvey, she strode right up to them and cleared her throat. Turning to look at her, Walsh had a scowl on his face that indicated his irritation. Flynn’s expression softened, his tense jaw relaxing enough for her to notice. “So sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. Flynn, do you have a minute?”
“Can’t you see we’re talking here?” Walsh grumbled, looking extremely put out.
“Hey Coach, come on. Treat Aubrey with some respect.” Flynn smiled at her, and her knees threatened to buckle at the sight. Would she ever grow used to having that potent grin aimed directly at her? The man had dimples for miles, and she’d always had a weakness for dimples. “Everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. It’s great,” she reassured, lying through her teeth. “I just—I have something I need to tell you.” Well, that was certainly the truth.
“No problem. We can talk later. Right, Coach?” Flynn asked with a little frown.
Walsh grunted. “If you say so,” he muttered before taking off.
Aubrey watched him go, nerves eating at her insides. Crap, she was…scared. Petrified, really. Her liquid courage was slowly evaporating. What if she confessed all to Flynn and he didn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if he laughed at her?
She scowled. He wouldn’t laugh. He was too nice. He always treated her with respect, even when some of the guys would tease her or try to shock her with their colorful language. Not that they blatantly harassed her, but pretty much the entire Hawks team loved to give her a hard time.
Except for Flynn. He was “good ol’ boy” personified. Polite. Demanding respect for her and that she be treated like a lady, which both embarrassed her and made her fall for him a little bit more every time. When they had meetings and Harvey cut her off in his usual way, Flynn always interrupted, asking that they let the lady finish speaking.
It was sweet. He was sweet. And all that niceness intrigued her. Made her wonder if the rumors about his sexual status were correct. Could he really be a twenty-five-year-old virgin? He never denied it. Didn’t confirm it, either, choosing to let everyone speculate instead, which Harvey loved with a fierce passion. Flynn brought the Hawks a lot of media attention, what with his stellar good looks, his wholesome reputation, and the way he’d taken over for an injured Jared Quinn and practically turned the entire past season around.
“So what’s going on, Aubrey? Why do you look so tense?” Flynn’s deep, slightly teasing voice broke through her thoughts, and she lifted her head, her gaze meeting his.
“I’m not tense.” She took a deep breath. She was so tense she could shatter. “Why would you say that?”
“You get this little line right here.” Reaching out, he drew his calloused finger between her brows, easing the line that was, yep, right there. Tingles raced over her skin at his innocent touch, disappointment filling her when his hand dropped away. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know that look when I see it. Don’t tell me you have bad news, too.”
“No, nothing like that.” She shook her head. Did that mean Coach Walsh had told him he was going to be traded when the season was over? Maybe he was in a terrible mood now. She hoped that what she was about to tell him wouldn’t seem like bad news. “Can we go somewhere more…private?”
“Sure. We can head outside.” He nodded toward the open doorway that led onto a terrace.
“That’ll work.” She released a shuddery breath when he settled his big hand at the small of her back, then guided her through the crowded restaurant. Plenty of people said hello, a few congratulated Flynn, and he smiled obligingly, always friendly, always agreeable.